by C T Glatte
Jimmy yelled, “Get down, get down!” He held his helmet tight over his head and looked for Hank. Hank’s head was buried beneath his helmet and his body shook as the bullets and tank shells exploded all around them. There was an explosion only feet to his left and he felt the heat wash over him. He glanced through the debris filling the air and the two-man bazooka team was simply gone.
More fire punched through the forest, shredding trees sending out sword-like slivers in all directions. Jimmy knew they’d die if they stayed. He reached over and clutched Hank’s arm and yelled. “We gotta pull further back!”
Hank peered from beneath his helmet. His eyes were like saucers, but Jimmy knew he was ready to move. He could always rely on Hank. More bullets pinged and whizzed off the front of the boulders. Jimmy tried to see the road, but there was too much smoke and debris. His eyes burned and watered. Staying on his belly he pushed himself backward pulling on Hank’s shirt. Hank followed, slithering to keep up.
Jimmy continued backwards until he felt himself moving into a slight depression. He remembered seeing the natural feature earlier but discounted it as a firing spot because it didn’t have a clear shot at the road. Now it was a sanctuary. He reached forward and yanked Hank the rest of the way into the cover. Another tank shell shattered a nearby tree and sent splinters and boughs cascading in all directions. They both curled into balls making themselves as small as possible. The forest erupted all around them. Through it all they could hear screaming men, dying men. Jimmy covered his ears and rocked back and forth. He didn’t realize he was screaming too.
The .30 caliber machine guns continued to fire into the column, but there clearly weren’t as many. Another whoosh from a remaining bazooka team exploded in front of a T34, but did nothing more than douse it with shrapnel and dirt. Cannon fire answered almost immediately and Jimmy guessed they were obliterated, but didn’t lift his head to find out.
The volume of fire streaking over their heads was thick enough to walk on. “Stay down! Stay down,” Jimmy yelled needlessly.
Through the din of fire and explosions he heard someone yelling to fall back. Jimmy ignored the order, knowing if he lifted his head, it would be torn from his shoulders. Some men tried, and he heard bullets thunking into flesh and more screams.
Finally, the barrage slackened. Hank and Jimmy cowered in the depression with their helmets pulled tight over their heads. There was no more outgoing friendly fire and the Russians finally realized it and ceased fire. Hank’s lips quivered and he stammered, “Shit, shit, shit.”
Jimmy lifted his head and felt a heaviness on his body, like something were on top of him. He shook his shoulders and felt a thick layer of grime cascade off his shoulders. There was something else, though and for a moment he thrashed trying to free himself. A large bushy tree branch had fallen and covered them, it’s thick shredded trunk resting at an angle over their bodies. “It’s a branch. I can move it, it isn’t heavy.”
Hank shook his head, “L - leave it there…cover.”
Jimmy shook his head, “I’m not doing that again, we need to join the others, join the main group.”
Hank was shivering, “I don’t think I can move.”
“Are you hit?” He touched Hank’s shoulder.
Hank shook his head, “I - I don’t think so. Just, just give me a minute.”
Jimmy nodded and pushed the branch to the side and poked his head up through the green needles. They tickled his cheeks and he spit dirt from his mouth. The air was clearing in front but he was too far back to see the road. His ears were ringing, masking the sounds of engines. He looked behind, toward the forest. He saw men on their stomachs with their heads buried as deep as the earth would allow. He was relieved to see at least some GIs made it. He looked along the cliff and saw bodies, some missing body parts, others contorted into impossible shapes. “Oh my God,” he muttered.
Hank stammered, “Is anyone else alive?”
Jimmy nodded, “Yeah. I can see GIs behind us in the forest.” He grabbed a handful of Hank’s shirt. “Come on.” He pulled and Hank moved. Jimmy pushed the branch off toward the cliff. He stayed in a crouch but got his feet beneath him. He waited until Hank did the same. Jimmy yelled, “Coming out. GIs coming from the cliff, don’t shoot.”
There was no reply. He licked his lips and lunged to his feet and ran weaving around bodies, boulders and downed trees. He could hear Hank behind him stumbling along. He expected to be shot in the back any second. I’ve felt that too often. He saw a GI and dove, skidding to a stop beside him. Jimmy rolled behind a tree, making way for Hank, who was a second behind.
The GI lifted his head and groped for his rifle, but Jimmy put up his hands and saw recognition dawn on the spooked soldier. His eyes were crazed with fear. He had a nasty three-inch cut on his forehead that seeped blood into his eyes making him look feral and dangerous.
Jimmy noticed the patches on his arm, it was Major Frinks. Jimmy felt relief. “What do we do now, sir?” He wanted someone to take charge, to make the whole attack worthwhile, to tell him what to do. Major Frink’s eyes darted around the woods, then came back to Jimmy. Jimmy had been a combat veteran for only a week, but he understood the look on the major’s face; abject, debilitating fear. “Sir?” He pleaded, “what now? Major?”
A shot rang out and zipped through the trees. Jimmy flinched and looked over his left shoulder. The bullet had come from the woods. He knew what it meant. He pivoted his rifle left, and blew dust and debris from his sights. There were a number of freshly downed trees but he had a decent view between them. Hank moved to his left and perched his rifle in the crook of a branch. The major finally answered, “We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die!”
Bullets answered and sliced through the cover. Jimmy saw the white smoke of the rifle and put his muzzle on the spot. A Russian stepped out from behind a tree. He stepped over a log and Jimmy adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger twice. The soldier dropped immediately. Hank fired and pulled back just in time as a bullet nicked the side of the tree he was using for cover. He cried out and clutched his cheek. Jimmy lifted his head, fearing the worst, but Hank yelled, “Splinters from the tree, I’m fine. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch though.”
More Russian bullets, this time from submachine guns. Jimmy and Hank cowered, knowing the fire-power of the PPSH-41s. Jimmy longed to have his back, but he’d left it at the cliffside. May as well be a thousand miles away.
Answering fire erupted from the woods around them. Jimmy looked behind and saw GIs poking from cover, firing then pulling back. He’d never seen a happier sight. He found the major again. He was still on the ground, his eyes shifting around like a caged animal. Jimmy knew he was about to break. He yelled, “Stay down, Major. Don’t move or you’ll die!”
Jimmy heard Hank’s rifle barking and he peered around his tree just as a Russian dove behind a rock only thirty yards away. We must be the flank now. All those men wiped out. He aimed where he thought the soldier would peek out but a bullet thunked into the tree and he pulled back, cursing. He had to move. He took a deep breath and dove to his right and rolled behind a stout log.
No bullets chased him. He came up onto his knee and quickly brought his head up, then down. He didn’t draw any fire, so he put his rifle to his shoulder and rose up slowly. A Russian rose up to throw something, exposing his chest. Jimmy adjusted and snapped a shot off. He was sure he hit him, but the grenade came out and wobbled toward where he’d just been. He watched it hit the tree trunk and bounce right at Hank. Without a thought, he sprang to his feet and lunged, at the same time yelling, “Grenade!” He saw Hank come off his sights and look his way. His eye caught the grenade and time stood still. The grenade exploded and Jimmy lost sight of Hank through the fire and smoke.
The blast caught Jimmy in midair and the concussion slammed him into the ground. He lay gasping for breath, his only thought getting to Hank. He pushed to his knees and swayed, peering through the small smoking crater. His head was swimming and his eyes w
ouldn’t focus. He had no idea where his weapon was, it was the last thing on his mind. He staggered to his feet, the dim realization that bullets were snapping past, moving in both directions.
He was unscathed as if invisible. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the bloody form of his best friend. He took another step then dropped to his knees and crawled to him. His hands shook uncontrollably and he opened his mouth to scream but nothing came. He moved to Hank’s head and cradled him in his lap and rocked as he stared into his unseeing eyes, chanting, “No, no, no.”
The fighting continued around him unabated. He felt he was out of his body looking down on the grisly scene. He hoped he got hit, but knew in his soul he wouldn’t. God won’t make it that easy.
He didn’t know how long he rocked, Hank’s body. Looking back, it would seem like millennia. The first thing he knew of reality was a GI kneeling beside him and clutching his shoulder hard. Jimmy looked at him, trying to figure out what was happening and realized the GI had been speaking to him for some time and was increasing his grip, until he winced in pain. Jimmy glowered at him and snarled, “Leave me alone.”
The GI leaned back but persisted. “Come on. they’re here to take your buddy. You have to let him go.”
Jimmy looked up in confusion. Sure enough there were two stretcher bearers waiting to take Hank’s body. Jimmy flinched and looked around the forest. “Wh - what happened? Where are the Russians.”
The kneeling GI unclenched Jimmy’s hands from Hank and Jimmy watched his limp body fill the stretcher. One of the GIs put an Army blanket over him and covered his face. It was the last time he saw him.
The GI looked into his eyes and cursed, “Jesus, you’ve got shell-shock. Probably a concussion.” He nodded at the stretcher bearers and they shuffled through the forest, moving the way the Russians had come.
Jimmy tried to get to his feet and stop them from walking straight into the Russians, his eyes wild with fear and anger at their carelessness. “Russians that way,” was all he could muster.
The GI shook his head and put his hands on both Jimmy’s shoulders and peered into his eyes. “Listen, soldier…” he glanced at Jimmy’s name tag, “Private Crandall. Listen carefully. The battle’s moved beyond us. The Canadians finally showed up in force and cut into the Russian rear. They retreated. The Russians retreated.”
Jimmy repeated the word as though hearing it for the first time, “Retreat?” The GI nodded and Jimmy turned to watch the back of the stretcher bearer disappearing into the woods. There was no gunfire, no explosions, no screaming. He noticed other GIs pulling dead and wounded, mostly dead from the woods, moving the same direction. “Canadians,” he muttered. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
THE END of Book 1
Afterword
I hope you enjoyed the first book of the Korth Chronicles. Please consider leaving a review. Reviews help other readers find good books and keeps me motivated to continue writing them. If you come across any typos or grammar issues, or just want to say ‘hello,’ please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. I read and respond to all emails.
Stay tuned. I have many more Korth Chronicle books planned!